


like a ghost, I'm gonna haunt you

by mixture



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Charles You Slut, Erik Being Cocky, F/M, Friendship, Honestly Charles What Are You Thinking, M/M, Oral Sex, Quickies, Rough Sex, Timeline What Timeline, Tony Being Tony, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-04 02:35:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1075524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mixture/pseuds/mixture
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles and Erik's break ups seemed to be timed like the seasons. Despite all of the offers for company and friendly advice, no one really understands what's going on in Charles' head... except for the person who matters the most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like a ghost, I'm gonna haunt you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gerec](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gerec/gifts).



> This got out of hand, and there's a lot I wasn't able to write because of both time constraints as well as how the story organically grew (my intent was porny crack but then I ended up with some weird porny angst h/c with a plot). I hope to write a part two to it, or at least write what has happened before this story, but-- well, we'll see. 
> 
> Title from Donald Fagen's _Ruby Baby_.

Charles frowned as Tony came back to the couch with two glasses of scotch. He took the one he knew that was for him and withdrew his arm so that his friend could sit—though not expecting him to sit so close that their legs were touching from hip to knee. “I’m only here because you’re my _friend_ , Tony, you’re supposed to _listen_ —“

“I’m listening!”

He tries to get another word in, but Tony is determined, moving one of his arms to the back of the couch and consequently around Charles’ shoulders, “Just because _I_ see no harm in getting close to my best friend, that doesn’t mean that I’m not _listening_.”

_Even if I couldn’t physically_ see _you getting antsy, I can definitely_ see _that you’re thinking about very particular parts of my body—_

“Not all of us can focus quite as clearly as you do, but believe me Charlie,” there’s a squeeze to his shoulders as Tony takes a sip of his drink, “I do care. We’re friends!”

Charles ignores the nickname in favor for downing his own drink, leaning forward to put the tumbler on the coffee table in front of them before returning to Tony’s partial embrace. _It’ll be fine once you get over him. And even if you didn’t want a round four with me, there’s always Banner—_

“That’s enough, Tony.”

Charles doesn’t fight as Tony pulls him closer and chastely kisses his temple. “Just let it go, okay? There are plenty of people who’d want to sleep with you and actually stick around in the morning.”

He sends Tony a thread of his annoyance in the form of an invisible pinch to his arm. Charles ignores his flinch in favor for holding his head in his hands – the only response he can think of for this entire situation.

 

He wasn’t expecting to be fucked by Logan a few hours before the party, thick and unyielding, and so _deep_ —

“Logan, _please_ ,” he’s close to screaming with how the other man is thrusting into him, of how he’s forced against the wall with his head tilted back due to the grip Logan has in his hair—

His shields are shot to hell, and he finds it impossible to focus—he’s startled when he feels the slap on his ass that Logan delivers mid-thrust without breaking rhythm. Charles whimpers when the fist in his hair tightens, and for Logan’s wide palm to push his thigh out of the way—he knows he owes Tony _something_ with how his blunt nails have managed to scrape into the drywall as he comes from Logan’s roughness.

Logan lets his hair go in favor for using both hands for Charles’ thighs, and the smaller man lets his head rest on the wall when Logan finally stills from his rut and _comes_. He’s sore and _tired_ , crowded firmly against the wall, “You feel better, Chuck? ‘Cause we can keep going until you do.”

_Did you enjoy yourself?_ He asks instead of answering the question, though unable to help the gasp when Logan pulls out.

There’s a slap to his ass again, and he clenches on reflex. “It’s always good with you. Don’t see why you stick around with Lehnsherr—“

_I wouldn’t be here if we were together—_

The other man puts himself back together, eyes keen on Charles’ backside. “I know you, Chuck.”

Charles is glad that he’s facing away from Logan, though he knows the other man can scent his emotions.

_I know._

 

“It seems like _someone_ got laid.”

“Christ, Emma, you really _don’t_ have to say that out loud—“

Tony barks out a laugh, “Oh, but she does. You know, for the peons like myself who can’t do the brain voodoo that you two do.”

Emma hits Tony on his arm, and Charles is slightly surprised that she didn’t turn diamond for the blow. “He’s definitely had more to drink since he set up this party, though I’m sure you could’ve figured that out on your own.”

They’re both quiet and attentive as they watch him sit down with difficulty. Emma laughs and takes a pull from her champagne when Charles has made himself comfortable, while Tony does something with his phone. “I still say it should’ve been _me_ —“

“—But you like things up your _own_ ass—“ 

“—you know, there’s this sex toy called a _butt plug_ —” 

Charles is stuck pouring his own drink as his friends bicker back and forth. It proves to be a decent distraction, focusing on how the liquid flows into his glass, and how to best maneuver while still pleasantly sore.

“Look, Em, I’m just saying. The three of us in the sack would be wonderful. I know what your strap-on looks like, I think I designed it.”

“Sugar, you wouldn’t be able to handle sex with me. But I’m sure Charles has something to say with how strongly he’s eying the bottle.” They both turn to him, and he feels like a child with how he’s unable to speak. _I miss him—and no, not Logan._

“Then just go back to him, honey. _You know how he is about you—he won’t even get angry that you were a slut while on break. He’s already assumed that you’ve slept with your friends even before he asked you out the first time_.”

_Does this even count as a break? I’m under the strong impression that this is definitely_ not _a break._

Tony huffed. “First off, you’re too far away from your supposedly best friends, how are we supposed to comfort you when you’re on the other side of the table? Number two, you will be back with tall, dark, and spooky within the month, I even built an app to predict the exact time.”

Emma passes off her empty champagne flute to a passing waiter, exchanging it for a glass of water at the expense of Tony rolling his eyes. “You’re not known for passing up a dick like that.”

“ _Emma_ —!“

Tony shrugs. “It’s true.”

The two of them tap their glasses together in agreement, while Charles stares out into the crowd of people Tony managed to amass in such a short amount of time. Some of them he knows personally, or knows through his childhood friends but yet—

Of course Erik’s not here.

 

He tucks into another one of Tony’s guestrooms with a girl Emma has set him up with—she’s beautiful with an amazing set of wings, and has no complaints when he decides to spend most of their time together with his mouth between her legs. She’s more than happy with his performance, though slightly put off that he won’t fuck her—but it doesn’t show with how enthusiastic she is about getting his dick in her mouth.

She leaves him in solitude when he’s contemplating spending another hour tracing the lines of her wings with his tongue, and he falls asleep right around the time he feels Emma brush against his mind in an attempt to start a conversation.

He wakes up to a text from Erik the next morning, though he gets around to reading it as he’s leaving Tony’s place—

`Do you want to do coffee soon?`

He ignores it in favor for tending to his hangover.

 

He’s stolen Raven away from Irene for the night and uses her lap as a pillow as they spend their sibling time together watching a movie. “He misses you.”

“I know.”

She pushes his hair out of his face as he refuses to look at her. “And I know you miss him, too. What I want to know is why you broke up with him this time.”

Charles closes his eyes. _He thought it would make me happy._

“But that’s still not why _you_ broke up with _him_.”

_Because I thought it would make me happy._

“And did it?”

He hides his face in her thigh. _No._

 

A few days later, Erik is in front of his apartment’s main doors with a cozied cup of what he knows to be tea, and a cigarette. The doorman wouldn’t chase him away; they know each other for one, and Charles knows from experience that the man is terrified of Erik, with or without powers—though Erik is being considerate and keeping as far away from the door as he can without standing in the street.

He could mess with Erik’s perception, but it’s not worth it in the long run. “You know I hate it when you smoke,” he says, taking the cup from the taller man’s hand and pulling from it. _I know._

Charles finds that he appreciates the splash of scotch amongst his tea, and wonders how he knew to make his cuppa for the day. Erik’s gaze stays on him as he finishes his cigarette, flicking the butt out into the street with no concern for where it will land. _Are we going to talk about it this time?_

“… Those are my sunglasses, by the way,” Charles says in response between sips of his tea.

Erik grins, though he doesn’t make a move to touch Charles like he’s being expected to. _Upstairs?_

Charles nods and leads the way, though they don’t say anything to one another until he’s got his key into the door and letting them into his apartment— “Angel told me that you were doing okay.”

Charles starts, though he doesn’t understand why he feels _guilty_ , but ah—the image comes to him clearly, of Erik and Angel tangled up on a couch and watching something bland on television. He’s about to say something malicious, ready to lash out if Erik was trying to _spy_ on him, but he notices that the image is overlaid with Erik and Angel doing the same thing, only _younger_ —“Did _your_ best friend sleep with me?”

_She’s beautiful, isn’t she?_

Charles is ready to apologize, but—

“It’s okay. She told me a while ago that Emma was trying to set her up with you for when we had broken up, but she wasn’t sure if it was ever going to happen.”

He wants to ask _why_ Erik had said yes, had agreed to the break up if he had known one of his friends had her sights on his ex, but he knows Erik’s heart, and knows that his reaction is simply that—a reaction.

_… Do I really do this_ that _often?_

“Is that a question you want a real answer to?”

Erik isn’t angry as he takes his coat and shoes off at the door and moves to claim the corner of the couch, his corner of the couch. “I still love you, _and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. If you really want us to be over, I would miss you— and have missed you every time—but I’d understand. You warned me before we even started this, and I still believe any time with you is worth the risk of you leaving the next day._ ”

Charles escapes the conversation for a moment by taking his own shoes off, and hanging his coat up near the front door. He’s still working on drinking the tea that Erik had brought him, but picks at the knitted cozy while hovering around the couch.

“You’re still wearing my sunglasses.”

“I know,” Erik pats at the empty cushion next to him, “are you going to come over here and take them off for me?”

Charles sits, and Erik wraps his arm around his shoulder as if nothing had changed between them. _You deserve so much better._

“I think you’re better than what you give yourself credit for.”

It’s instinctive as to how Charles leans back into Erik’s body, though he goes a bit further so that he can put the tea on the side table without passing it to Erik. _Can we try again?_

“Of course.”

 

 

 

Emma’s eyebrows rise in shock as she compares the line of texts she’s received from Charles to the app on Tony’s phone. It isn’t enough to be comical, but the result is still shocking—she usually has absolute control of how she physically shows her emotions. 

Tony laughs as he rubs at her shoulders. “I know, Em. Sometimes I even surprise _myself_.”


End file.
